Twisted Mumbles Poetryby jeseca Lowell

This is the path that I walk,a delicate balance of who I am and want to be,still never adding up to the sum I aim for.Almost a quarter of a century old, the blood of my youth still shakes my frame.You want me to lay myself down, air my dirty laundry to a world not preparedbut I will keep it to myself.You see and I see but what is it we are seeing?Attempts at pinning me down to a generalization fail you miserably.As cold as ice and as hot as they come, I fit nowhere in particular.I walk my path, leaving breadcrumbs, but it is not you who I will end up with.Sugar me sweet and butter me up but you are still not what I want.Multiply that by a thousand and you'd still end up nowhere near me.